


I'm Sorry, He's Mine

by vinterdrog



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-10
Updated: 2013-01-10
Packaged: 2017-11-25 00:07:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/633006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vinterdrog/pseuds/vinterdrog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles comes home and Derek is possessive. Nothing out of the ordinary.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm Sorry, He's Mine

“Derek, can you... Or not.” Stiles sighs as the doorknob digs into his back. He should have seen it coming, really, he only has himself to blame for not realizing this would happen the minute Stiles knocked on Derek’s door. 

“Hi, honey, yeah, I missed you, too. Great to be back,” Stiles says, glaring down at where Derek is attached to his neck. 

“Oh, school is fine, really. Good classes, nice friends, you know. A bit lonely without you sometimes, but I make do- _oh_ , ouch, _fuck_ , Derek--” Stiles gasps and Derek presses an apologetic kiss to the bruise, but doesn’t let up, just moves his lips to a new spot. Stiles scowls at him even though he can’t see it. 

“How my trip was?” he goes on, then. “The usual. I drove. It was boring. I changed radio station three times and still heard the new Lady Gaga single five times.” He dangles his feet where they’re hanging a couple of inches above the ground. 

“Hey, can you--okay, I guess not.” Well, two can play a game, he thinks. 

“I did get asked out a couple of times,” he says casually. Or, well, as casually as he possibly can given the circumstances. It’s true, though, he’s not lying, so Derek can’t just pick up on his heartbeat and ignore him. 

“Guys and girls, actually. Who would’ve thought, huh?” He thinks he hears a muffled “ _Me_ ” from Derek, but it’s hard to tell, what with his mouth still attached to Stiles’ neck and all. When Derek grazes his teeth over the mark and it actually _hurts_ , in a painful-without-pleasure way, Stiles decides that he’s had enough. 

“Okay, Derek, seriously, stop,” he says and puts his hand on the back of Derek’s head, pulling his hair a bit. “Ouch, aow, that hurts, stop.” 

Derek lets go, reluctantly, and sets Stiles down on the floor again. He doesn’t remove his face from Stiles’ neck though, continuing to nuzzle and press light kisses against the bruised skin. 

“Fucking _hell_ , do you have like, a _thing_ for me in turtlenecks, or what’s the deal?” Stiles asks and pulls at Derek’s hair again so he’ll actually _look_ at Stiles. 

“No,” Derek says, managing to somehow also say _you’re an idiot and I have no idea what you’re talking about_ just with his _tone_. 

“Do you have a thing for my dad’s wrath aimed at you, then? Is that a kink I should be aware of?” 

Derek stares at him. Stiles shrugs. 

“Because those are the two things you have to choose between now, what with you molesting my neck so that I can’t wear normal shirts if I don’t want my dad to see. And it’s not like I’m embarrassed, but he gets pretty mad. At you. Which you already know, so...” he trails off, looking pointedly at Derek, who only scowls back. 

“You didn’t smell like me,” he mutters, and if Stiles tries really hard, he can imagine that Derek even sounds a bit sheepish. 

“I haven’t seen you in two months,” Stiles says. It’s safe to say that he’s _pretty_ aware that he doesn’t smell like Derek anymore. Not even Derek’s sweatshirts that Stiles may or may not have stolen from his laundry basket smells like Derek anymore. 

Derek just looks at him expectantly, waiting for Stiles to connect the dots. 

“So... you thought that eating me up would be a good way to remedy that?” Stiles tries to clarify. Derek sighs. 

It dawns on Stiles. “Ooh! It’s some pack thing, right? You need to, like, mark me up or something? So that I...know I belong to you? So that others know I belong to you? Why does this make me sound like I’m some sort of item? I’m not, am I?” 

Derek’s expression softens a little bit. “No, Stiles, you’re not,” he says, reaching up to cup Stiles' cheek. He kisses him, for real this time, on the mouth, and yeah, this is what Stiles has wanted all along. “You _are_ mine, though,” Derek murmurs against his lips when they break apart. 

“Yeah, and everyone will know it,” Stiles replies, shrugging to hitch his shirt a little bit higher up on his shoulder, but Derek pulls it down again. Stiles levels a very judgemental look at him. 

“Mine,” Derek repeats. Stiles rolls his eyes. 

“Yeah, whatever. Come on, take me to bed and you can go all crazy alpha on me there instead. And make your marks on places I can actually cover up.” 

He barely has time to finish the sentence before Derek grabs his arm and drags him towards the bedroom. 


End file.
